


Love for thy lord

by starlightwalking



Series: Fairy Tale AUs [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bluebeard Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Blood and Gore, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Feudalism, M/M, Necromancy, Quenya Names, Thees and Thous, Tolkien Secret Santa 2019, look it's Sauron he's nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Once there was a young lord who wed a man unloved by his father. Once there was an older lord who claimed a tragic past and yet found new love. Once there a Necromancer, who married many and slew them all; once there was a bloodstained chamber hidden beneath a castle, where death and passion clashed, where liege and lord conflicted.
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Curufin | Curufinwë, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Maedhros | Maitimo, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Fairy Tale AUs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/748527
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2019





	Love for thy lord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lorinand_Lost (Barefoot_Dancer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barefoot_Dancer/gifts).



> Happy holidays - it's still New Year's Eve in my timezone - to the wonderful but-what-if-i-fly / Lorinand_Lost! You wrote me an amazing [Gigolas fairy tale AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144066) last year, and I was so excited to return the favor when I was assigned you for the same exchange this year :) Sorry it took me so long to finish it, but I didn't want to give you anything other than the best! Thanks for your patience - and your flexibility when I gifted you [an edit](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/189849430537/%C3%A9owyn-fingolfin-parallels-for) in the meantime <3
> 
> This story is an AU of the fairy tale "Bluebeard," a somewhat-obscure old French tale about a man who murders his wives one after the other. I wanted to write you a fairy tale AU because I loved the one you wrote for me, and when I saw you had requested Silvergifting I knew just the story to use ;)
> 
> Content warning for: death, implied rape, implied child abuse, mentions of necrophilia, murder, gore, violence, and all sorts of necromancy-related stuff. This is pretty dark!
> 
> I used Quenya names for a Noldorin kingdom, including Þauron instead of Sauron (it's a Feanorian story after all!)  
> I also used thees and thous and the other archaic language that goes along with it, mostly to inspire the mood, but I also very much hope I did it right re: formality and informality...  
> This also features some background Angbang, mostly as Sauron's motivation.

Once there was a young lord, the son of the son of the king, far from the throne and yet near to it.

And once there was an older lord, wearied of love and of the court, betrayed and hurt by those who stole first his heart and then his riches: thus went the tale of those who followed him, and those who had once been wed to him had fled the realm and spake not otherwise.

The name of the young lord was Tyelperinquar, and he quarreled with his father, wishing not for politics but a life in the forge. His line had once been great smiths and craftsmen, but even his grandfather the king seemed to have forgotten that it was he who once had waged war over the precious jewels that lay now in his crown.

Upon a time, Tyelperinquar defied his father and left the court to craft his own jewels and jewelry, and thus met a friend to his heart and his mind.

Now this was the elder lord, whose name was Annatar of the land of Gaurhoth, who (as he said) had borne much suffering in his years and longed for the work of his own hands to bring some solace to his troubled soul. He, too, fled the court of the king who trusted him not, but Tyelperinquar asked not his name nor his story for some time.

They worked together to create many marvelous things: helms and swords, necklaces and bracelets, but their favorite was rings. Tyelperinquar wore several rings on each hand, as did Annatar, and they exchanged such gifts for each other twice a sennight.

And after months of such a courtship, Tyelperinquar looked into his heart and found himself yearning for the gentle craftsman whose identity yet was hid in shadow, and he came to Annatar and asked for first his love and then his name.

Now Annatar gave not his love readily, for he in his many years had been burned by the fires of passion. This he told to Tyelperinquar, that all his past spouses pretended at their love only to slip away with his gold and gems, never to be seen again. But the heart of Tyelperinquar was pure and young, and he loved him with a sincerity borne not from greed, and within him Annatar saw a love that would not betray him.

Thus he gave both his love and name to Tyelperinquar, and the young lord was astonished that a lord spoken of so foul by his father was a man of such grace, and more so that his station allowed them to be wed.

And wed they were, in the dusk of autumn: third was Tyelperinquar of Annatar's husbands, in addition to his six past wives, but this union was more joyous than them all combined. Annatar had many wealthy friends, showering the couple in gifts, and Tyelperinquar wept at such kindness, for it was not extended by his family.

He was the only grandson of the king, and yet the king came not; six uncles he had, and they attended with solemn faces and little laughter. His mother wept to give her child away, and his grandmother the queen had a face of unmoving porcelain, showing no feeling to the world.

Now Tyelperinquar's father was the Prince Curufinwë, crafty in mind yet not in hand, and he saw this marriage as perilous to his good name. Lord Annatar was much adored by the people, and in stealing away his son Curufinwë's heart hardened and he spoke against his son's new husband in court, decrying Annatar's tale as foul and false. He came not to the wedding of his once-beloved son and foreswore any inheritance to Tyelperinquar, and seeing how he treated his child the people turned against him and further toward Annatar.

Tyelperinquar was grieved to lose his father's love, but not his riches, for Annatar was a wealthy man. His new husband carried him away to a castle in the countryside of Gaurhoth, and together they lived happily for a time, all cares for court and kin forgotten.

In the country, life was much different than it had been before they were wed. A forge adjoined the castle, and yet Tyelperinquar and Annatar spent less time smithing than they had before. Annatar still wore all manner of jewelry, but he insisted Tyelperinquar wear only his simple gold wedding band.

Tyelperinquar cherished this ring, as it was a symbol of his love, but he loved also things of his own crafting. At times he obeyed his husband's whims; at others he showed flagrant disrespect, his fingers laden down heavy with gems until Annatar's golden eyes glinted as he pushed him into bed, nipping at his fingers and working them free of their burdens save one to free them for other, more carnal purposes.

Oh, Tyelperinquar loved his husband. Annatar was beautiful, he was clever, he saw into Tyelperinquar's mind better than any other. And most of all he knew Tyelperinquar's body, knew just the ways to make him wail and moan and other methods that kept him silent.

For a time that was enough. But then they both grew lonely, and each other's company was not sufficient, and Annatar hosted a feast for his friends.

Many lords came, and ladies too, and others beside. Annatar's friends were much like him—quick, gorgeous, sly. But they were odd, also: Thuringwethil never met Tyelperinquar's eyes straight; Tevildo's fur coat made him sneeze in a way only cat hair could; Gothmog's massive, scarred hands made him feel weak in the knees just to behold.

"I do not like thy companions all that much," Tyelperinquar confessed after such a gathering. "Gothmog eyes me like I am a piece of meat, and Thuringwethil laughed each time I said thou lovest me."

He mentioned not what Tevildo had said, that he "would not last long, this one"—such an affront to Tyelperinquar's honor would create unbearable strife between Annatar and his friends, should Annatar learn of the insult to his husband. Tyelperinquar knew from bitter experience that such quarrels ought to be avoided if possible. Yet he swore to himself that never, ever would he abandon Annatar and flee with his riches as those spouses before him had done.

"They mean thee no ill will," Annatar dismissed. "Wild company do I keep, fouler even than these folk; perhaps my friendship may civilize such far-flung lords."

Now the heart of Tyelperinquar was yet unquiet, and he dared ask a question more bold: "What knowest thou of underground chambers?"

Annatar grew still and looked at him with narrowed eyes, eyes cat-slit like his friend Tevildo. "What dost thou mean?"

"The Lady Thuringwethil jested that I ought to be careful in thine underground chambers," Tyelperinquar said. "I knew not such rooms existed in Gaurhoth's castle."

Annatar laughed, and the golden ring upon Tyelperinquar's finger glinted in the candlelight. "O Tyelpë my love, she doth enjoy a jest!" he cried. "Yes, such chambers do dwell beneath us, old relics from ages past. They are all locked, and thou needest not worrit thyself of them. In fact, I forbid such prying; let thy mind be consumed with other thoughts this eve!"

Tyelperinquar acceded and allowed his husband to ravish him, and he lost himself in pleasure and adoration. The next visit from Annatar's friends was far more enjoyable, and such matters were not brought up again for some time.

Near a year had passed since their wedding when Tyelperinquar received a letter from his uncle, the Prince Maitimo. It was most often Annatar who greeted the royal courier, but he was away on some business with Lord Tevildo for the day, leaving Tyelperinquar to attend to their estate.

Tyelperinquar set aside those documents intended for Annatar, and with curiosity opened the one addressed for him. He had not heard from his family since he left for his marriage bed, assuming they wished nothing more to do with him now that he betrayed their wishes for his spouse. Yet here was Maitimo's handwriting writ large, the name _Curufinwë Tyelperinquar_ in bold script upon the page.

 _To Lord Curufinwë Tyelperinquar of the House of Fëanáro, consort of Lord Annatar of the Land of Gaurhoth and my beloved nephew,_ began the missive,

_It grieveth thy family that thou hast not responded to our correspondence, thy mother most of all. From the house of Fëanáro and the lords of all the Noldor we beseech thee to reply, for though thy husband's assurances of thy wellbeing are a comfort to us we would hear thine own words. If we hath offended thee, I assure thee that we love thee always and seek forgiveness for any slight to thine honor.  
_ _Alas, thy father Curufinwë Atarinkë is yet reluctant to reach his own hand out to thee! But thine mother aches for thy company and wishes to visit thee, or for thee to return to court. I, too, would rejoice in your presence, for I miss mine only nephew, as do all thine uncles.  
_ _I hope this letter reaches thy hands, and not only thy husband's; I worry he gives you not our words to read. Perhaps he does so to spare you the news of thy father's stubbornness, or for more nefarious reasons. Ah, I do not wish to open wounds so freshly closed in accusing thy love of misdeeds (the Valar know I have suffered the same from my father over my choice of lover!) but only to give thee the truth of this matter.  
_ _Your father, and his father who is mine also, have ancient quarrel with thy husband. Surely thou art aware of the disloyalty of the House of Gaurhoth in the past war, how his father Þauron betrayed our kindred to the Usurper Moringotto. But that is not the fault of Annatar, the guiltless son who was no doubt a child (as was thy father; though I wert a youth made prisoner of war) when Moringotto slew King Finwë so many years ago.  
_ _Still, it giveth us all pause to ponder the past of thy husband. Many spouses hath he taken, and though he claimeth that thou hast shown him the true nature of love and we all are assured of thy honest faithfulness, there are salient rumors of the whereabouts of Annatar's past lovers, rumors I feel obligated of which to inform you.  
_ _Two husbands and six wives he had before thee: the first Moringotto himself, who took the child-groom as ransom, so the stories say. It was this that turned Þauron against his lord, this for which he betrayed Moringotto and was thus cruelly slain. But Annatar was at last freed when he was a youth, with a vast inheritance, and then wed Meássë, a lady twice his age.  
_ _This is then where the story changes. I am sure thy husband hath told thee his own version of events, but there is a darker side. Meássë was once also a thrall of Moringotto, but she turned spy for the Noldor and later took pity on Annatar. Her House was ruined in the war, and some whispered she wanted the young lord only for his riches, and to those who spoke so their suspicions were confirmed when one day five years from their wedding Meássë vanished from court and Annatar bewailed the disappearance of his wife with many precious jewels. Yet she was never seen again, for all her cunning and connections, and he appeared no less wealthy.  
_ _Next came Melian, less than a year after Meássë's disappearance; in mourning for her late husband she found comfort in his arms, or so she claimed. She had never before been kind to him, until one day she appeared wearing a promise ring from him and announced their engagement. She dwelt only a year with Annatar before she, too, disappeared.  
_ _Then was Eilinel, a youth recently bereaved of her first love in a tragic accident. Annatar comforted and wooed her, and she lasted no longer than had Lady Melian. Then came Shelob and Zimraphel in quick succession, and whispers spread throughout court that Annatar had become a monstrous fiend who slew his wives and hid their bodies in some ancient dungeon filled with blood. But when Zimraphel fled with half his gold, he allowed many lords into his deepest treasuries to confirm the truth of his bereavement. For their troubles each was given a ring, a "meager gift" he claimed, after having been robbed of treasures of greater value.  
_ _Years passed before he wed again, this time to Lord Amlach who lasted longer than any previous spouse. Perhaps Annatar's bad luck was over, some thought, but then Amlach too vanished. Annatar grew violent and vicious in court, levying heavy taxes upon his commonfolk and wringing every debt from his lordly friends. It was said his next wife, Lady Berúthiel, was given to him in recompense for such a debt. But even she proved faithless, though my sympathy is with her in such an unjust marriage, and I do wonder if she at least was justified in her flight.  
_ _It seems then that he retreated, vanishing himself into the castle in the country of Gaurhoth. None heard from him, not even his noble friends, until the year thou came of age, Tyelperinquar, when he emerged from his den with a new and glorious wealth and a friendly demeanor that the King thy grandfather trusted not, nor did his favorite son, thy father Curufinwë.  
_ _Thou knowest the rest from thine own life, and likely thy husband's history is well-known to thee also, but... It has been near a year since thy marriage, and only thy husband's word has come of thy welfare. It would be a great comfort to us all in the palace to hear from thee, or to be graced with a visit, if only to assuage any doubts we may retain of thy safety.  
_ _And perhaps thy father, if given proof of Annatar's virtue, shall be swayed to repentance for his poor treatment of thee. Though mine own love for Annatar is little, I doth adore thee, and for thy sake I would see the houses of Gaurhoth and of Fëanáro reconciled.  
_ _Again we beseech thee: visit us! And if thou wishest, bring the Lord Annatar with thee, that we might see proof of the fruits of thy marriage._

_With love and well-wishes,  
_ _Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol  
_ _Fëanárion & Crown Prince of the Noldor  
_ _(and thy doting uncle)_

Much troubled was Tyelperinquar at these words, for he had received no such letters of which Maitimo spoke. Why would Annatar keep such missives from him? And the mention of rings and a bloodstained dungeon beneath the castle made him tremble, for had he not wondered what purpose his own gold band held beyond its beauty, and had he not inquired after such an underground chamber?

And yet Annatar was ever kind to him, showering him with presents and with sweet kisses, and he had spoken his heart of his past strife. Tyelperinquar knew already the sad tales of Annatar's past betrayals, and had since before their marriage.

How cruel had Moringotto been to take a child from his father! How conniving of Meássë to lure him into her bed! How desperate Melian to replace her lost love! It was Eilinel who first broke his heart truly, Annatar had once confessed; for he loved her truly, and yet she became a ghost to him, cold and distant, before vanishing altogether. Shelob spun webs of lies about him, tricking him into her arms; Zimraphel had been frank of her desire for his riches, and such candor had endeared him to her, but even she disappeared after finding their marriage an unfit tool for her purposes. And Amlach, whom Annatar had truly loved, drugged his husband and left him for the servants to find.

If Annatar's heart had hardened after such devastating losses, who could blame him? Tyelperinquar's family was not guiltless of such faults. King Fëanáro was said to have gone mad during the war, slaying his own soldiers in anger. But as Tyelperinquar's grandfather had recovered his senses, so had Annatar, and he freed Berúthiel from her marriage-bondage of his own choice. Toward she only did he not carry some ill will, for he recognized his wrong to her.

Yes, Tyelperinquar's heart ached for his husband, and no tale told slant by his uncle Maitimo could swerve his undying loyalty. And yet to hear from his family again brought him great joy, and upon Annatar's return to Gaurhoth he begged to visit the palace.

"It is good of thee to carry love for them, even after all their bitterness toward our union," Annatar replied. "Thou deservest better than such kin."

"I love them whether or no," Tyelperinquar replied. Sometimes patience was needed with Annatar. "And I wish for us to visit them. Wilt thou permit it?"

Annatar paused then, tapping his perfect lips. "Alas! my business with Lord Tevildo requires my time in his keep, and I hath returned for a short while only. I have not the time to accompany thee to the palace, my love, and I am loath to leave thee there alone in such a pit of snakes..."

Tyelperinquar bowed his head. "I shall inform my uncle so," he said reluctantly, "for I do not wish to displease you. In this I shall prove my love for my lord."

"Tyelpë!" Annatar cried, lifting his chin. "Be not so formal with me thy husband! I know it grieveth thee to be parted from thy family, but I do this for _thy_ sake."

"Could not my kin come hither, to our castle?" Tyelperinquar suggested, the idea coming to him all at once. "I played host to many of my father's vassals before our wedding, and I would keep order here in our home."

Annatar pondered his words for some time, but at last he nodded. "Yes, this would be good," he agreed. "I shall be gone from this my castle for three days and nights. Despite what thine uncle says, I doubt my presence here will be received gladly. Perhaps in time this may be reversed, but I would not sour thy reunion with those that thou lovest. In this time I am absent, I allow thee to host a feast for them, if it pleaseth thee."

Tyelperinquar leapt to embrace his husband. "It does please me!" he cried. "Many thanks to thee, Annatar; I shall not forget thy generosity."

In this his delight Tyelperinquar forgot all his puzzlement at not having received Maitimo's past letters, so ecstatic was he to invite his uncles to his home. He wrote the palace and sent the courier riding there posthaste, elated.

Annatar made love to him that night as if he would never do so again, and Tyelperinquar remembered in every movement how dear his husband was to him. O how fortunate was he to have such a husband, one who loved him and pampered him and trusted him so!

The morning of Annatar's departure, he proffered Tyelperinquar a ring of many keys. His eyes were solemn as he proclaimed, "These keys shall unlock any room in this castle, from the wine cellar to the highest tower—even my treasury, for what is mine is thine, Tyelpë. Use them well, love, and I will praise thee upon my return, for it is this that shall prove thy love for thy lord."

Tyelperinquar took the keys with reverence, awed at the trust his husband showed. For Annatar to surrender the castle's keys to him, despite his history of traitorous lovers...Tyelperinquar vowed not to disappoint him.

"There is but one place only that I beg thee not to enter," Annatar added. "Thou asked me once of chambers deep within the bowels of the castle, and I forbade thee from exploring such treacherous dungeons. I say again: do not go hither, for I know not what terrible things await thee in such recesses. It is for thy safety that I ask this, Tyelpë; explore the wonders of my treasury, but not the dungeon chambers."

"Of course, my lord and love," Tyelperinquar promised, and what reason would he have to betray such a vow? He was no oathbreaker, and he trusted Annatar utterly.

Thus Annatar rode away to visit Lord Tevildo, and Tyelperinquar began the task of preparing for his visiting kin.

The first day Tyelperinquar explored the ground level of the castle, opening doors to chambers he had never before bothered to inspect. He found storerooms and kitchens, guest beds and washrooms, and things much more mundane besides. He set about instructing the servants to cooking a great feast for a family as large as the House of King Fëanáro, and ventured for the first time into the treasury.

Tyelperinquar knew his husband was wealthy, but he was astonished by the amount of gold Annatar hid away. Not even in the _king_ 's coffers had he seen so many riches! For all Annatar had been robbed and betrayed in the past, he still held much coin within his vaults; and that was not all. Gems there were, and silver and other metals more precious, and rings—hundreds of rings, much like his own gold band, and many more bejeweled.

He was not a man to be tempted by such extravagance, not having been raised in the house of the king, but he understood what such a sight could do to a lesser man. Yes, he knew now what had led Annatar's past spouses to betray him, for it took great strength of will to resist such wealth.

The second day, Tyelperinquar received word that his family was to visit him the following morning. Delighted, he ordered guest rooms to be cleaned and the castle to be tidied; he explored now the castle's upper levels. A part of him was curious about the forbidden dungeons, but he obeyed his husband's wishes to leave that part of the castle well alone.

There were enough surprises in the floors above him to keep him busy in any manner. Rooms of paintings, of books, of statues: he had known of their existence before, but never had explored them himself. He kept mostly to his rooms and the forge, the places that made him happiest, but he was delighted to discover the secrets of the castle that he called home.

What astonished him most was the chamber of weaponry, no doubt relics from the past war. Annatar's father Þauron had amassed a mighty armory, but Tyelperinquar was shocked that such dangerous items had not been confiscated by the king after the war. It seemed unwise to leave such tools in the hands of former enemies, and King Fëanáro was far too clever to overlook such a thing.

Why, then, were these weapons here? Tyelperinquar had no satisfactory answer, and a troubled unease settled itself in his stomach as he saw how well cared-for the blades truly were, as if Annatar visited here often. As if he were preparing himself for a further conflict.

He would ask upon Annatar's return. Likely there was a harmless explanation, but Tyelperinquar needed his doubts put to rest.

The third day dawned with the arrival of Tyelperinquar's uncles to the castle. He welcomed them happily, embracing each in turn. Maitimo was there with his lover Findekáno; Makalaurë with his wife Ezellë; Tyelkormo with his great hound Huan; Carnistir with Haleth his betrothed; the twins Ambarussa with their bows and a boar they had caught along the way. Queen Nerdanel was there also, bearing a gift from the king, too busy to attend; and best of all came Quildalótië, the woman who bore him!

But his heart sank when he realized the missing person amongst the crowd: his father Curufinwë came not, and Quildalótië refused to speak of him to her son.

Nevertheless the reunion was joyous, and Tyelperinquar felt proud to show them around the castle. They wondered why Annatar was away, and he explained his husband's duty to his friends, of which even suspicious Maitimo approved.

Their feasting was glad and lasted well into the evening; they would spend the night in the castle and bid Tyelperinquar farewell in the morning, just as Annatar promised to return. Each of his kin embraced him before retiring to bed, and Tyelperinquar was exhausted as he himself relaxed for the night.

And yet, sleep did not come to him. Something troubled him: that unease in the pit of his stomach, Maitimo's warning in his prior letter, the way his mother Quildalótië widened her eyes to hear of Annatar's dealings with wild lords in the east.

"He trusts me entirely, Ammë," he had assured her. "See: he gave me his keys, to open any room in the castle, even the treasury! He knows I shall not betray him as he has been before."

His uncles exchanged doubtful looks. " _Any_ room?" Carnistir said suspiciously. "He keepeth no secrets from thee, none at all?"

"Well, all but the dungeons underground," Tyelperinquar admitted. "But what could he keep there? He told me they were ancient, empty lairs, relics from ages past."

"If they are empty, why doth he forbid thee entry?" Tyelkormo asked.

Tyelperinquar sighed. "I honor this his one request," he explained. "I need no reason why!"

"I am happy to see you so comfortable in thy marriage, grandson," Nerdanel said slowly. "And I know you believe his tale of woe utterly. Yet my heart is still troubled, for thy sake."

"We have heard rumor that after he slays his lovers, he keeps their bodies belowground," one of the Ambarussa said in hushed tones.

"Ai, and uses their blood and bone in evil magicks," added the other.

Tyelperinquar bristled at such heinous and ridiculous accusations. "You are guests in my house, and I refuse to entertain such slander against my husband!" he cried. "Annatar is a good man who would do no such thing!"

"Then why does he keep the chambers out of thy sight?" Makalaurë wondered, but he fell silent as his wife Ezellë shot him a glare.

This conversation would not leave Tyelperinquar's mind that eve. He tossed and turned for hours, mulling over the terrible rumors, his spirit growing sicker by the second. He tried to remember Annatar's warmth, his love, his trust, the hours of passion they had consummated within the sheets of this very bed, but cold emptiness consumed him.

Annatar had long been blasphemed and libeled, by Tyelperinquar's father most of all. Once he had believed such horrid tales, but surely he knew much better now, after a year of marriage!

And yet—if Annatar opened even his treasury to Tyelperinquar, why did he close off the dungeons still? He must have known that Tyelperinquar's curiosity would consume him. He certainly knew of the rumors surrounding the demise of his past lovers.

Perhaps it was a test, Tyelperinquar mused. Perhaps Annatar meant for him to trespass into the underground chambers, to discover the true secrets hiding there—for surely there was _something_ concealed in those depths, even if not a record of his crimes. Perhaps it was further treasures, even more wealth that tempted the weak-hearted, and he wanted Tyelperinquar to pass this final test and prove his loyalty once and for all.

And had not Annatar led lords below once before, to prove his innocence after the disappearance of Zimraphel? They had sworn by his honesty, and Tyelperinquar was sure he could, too, given the chance.

The allegations against his husband shook Tyelperinquar, especially coming from those he held so dear, from those who had in the past supported him despite what they called their better judgement. He needed to prove them wrong—and they _were_ wrong. Perhaps if they did so, even his father Curufinwë would see the honest truth of Annatar's goodness, and give Tyelperinquar back his love.

Yes, Tyelperinquar decided, this was indeed a test from Annatar, to see his bravery and faithfulness. And if he could cast aside the last of his worries and prove the virtue of his husband to his family in a single stroke, than it was worth defying his promise to do so.

Thus it was that Tyelperinquar took the keys he had been given and descended below the castle's ground floor, deep into the abandoned dungeons, certain he was doing the right thing.

The paths were dark and winding, and with every step he feared that Annatar would burst from the shadows and shout his displeasure. The staircase seemed to stretch on forever, and Tyelperinquar shivered as the temperature dropped the further he walked.

At last the stairwell opened into a narrow corridor. A flickering torch was lit at the foot of the steps, and Tyelperinquar took it, holding the light in front of him to inspect the dungeons.

There were several empty chambers, with door hinges rusted away and the doors themselves rotting in the threshold. Tyelperinquar's heart pounded as he peered within them, but he breathed deeply and noted with relief that these rooms were vacant, with naught but rat droppings within them.

The hall stretched on, and emboldened, Tyelperinquar strode forward. It was spooky down here, and it smelled terrible; no wonder Annatar had wished to spare him this part of the castle! It was the only place not well-kept and pristine. Tyelperinquar had nothing to fear, not of treachery nor murder nor anything foul.

And yet...

At the very end of the long hall, shrouded by a curtain so dark it blended into the gray-black stone, was one last door. This was no rot-through wooden slab, but polished and firm to the touch, and even the curtain that hid it was of fine and heavy make. Tyelperinquar lifted the cloth aside and placed a hand upon the sturdy wood: it was _warm_ , a strange contrast to the chill of the underground dungeon.

What was _this_? he wondered. A secret chamber? Perhaps Annatar _was_ hiding something—but surely he knew that Tyelperinquar would discover such a secret eventually. He had given Tyelperinquar the keys to the keep and laid clues to its location; he must _wish_ for him to find this hidden lair.

He fumbled at the ring of keys, at last finding one that matched the sturdy iron lock. Tyelperinquar summoned all his courage and slid it into the lock, turning it slowly, and held his breath as the heavy door swung open.

Immediately a wretched smell washed upon him and Tyelperinquar gagged, dropping the keys and the torch to the floor as he clapped his hands over his face and struggled not to faint from the intensity of the horrid scent. He beheld with wide and terrified eyes the sight before him, lit by many flickering lamps, too shocked and disgusted at first to understand what lay before him, but he could not deny the atrocities for long.

Blood was everywhere: the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Much of it was dried, but enough sounds of dripping and squelching filled the air that Tyelperinquar could tell some of it was fresh. Yet even the sight and smell of so much blood was not what made his stomach roll, for before him was a gruesome scene he could not have imagined in his worst nightmares but would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

Seven bodies hung from hooks and ropes, limp and lifeless and leering. The first was but a skeleton of broken bones, the next covered only in a paper-thin layer of skin, but the others were more fleshy. One had its eyes cut out, a gaping hole where its heart ought to be; another was missing a hand, a foot; but further along the line there were only thin cuts at the throat, the wrists, denoting less struggle, less torment before death—or perhaps more expertise from the killer.

They were naked, each and every one: six were women, one a man. Tyelperinquar knew exactly who they were, had known all along, and knew his place in their line; if he had not, a damning confirmation of his suspicions was written on a plaque behind each victim in Annatar's neat and looping handwriting.

 _Meássë_ , read the first, the fractured skeleton. The name stared out between cracks in her ribcage, taunting, teasing, tormenting. _Melian_ , read the next: a tall figure with dry and wrinkled skin clinging to her bones, a few strands of dark hair still protruding from her skull. Her eyes were empty hollows of nothingness, looking through Tyelperinquar and into horrors beyond.

 _Eilinel_ , said the next, the woman missing her eyes and heart. Her jaw hung at an unnatural angle, her teeth falling out of her head. Blood caked every inch of her body, and though Tyelperinquar knew she had once been renowned for her beauty, he could not summon up a picture of what she had looked like in her life.

 _Shelob_ followed Eilinel; her left side was rotted clean away, her hand and foot missing, but her right side was pristine. Tyelperinquar could see the green in her glassy eyes, a shadow of rouge on her cheeks, blue-black tattoos shrunk across her pale skin.

Next to her was _Zimraphel_ , the first fully intact body, her head hanging back and her long dark hair trailing behind her. A thin scar traced across her throat, but the blood had been scrubbed away. Were it not for her position and that damning sign of death, she could have started back to wakefulness and walked among the living.

Tyelperinquar was perhaps most disturbed by the only man among the ranks of the dead, _Amlach_. Like Zimraphel his condition was much improved from the earlier specimens, but his eyes were open where hers had been mercifully closed. They were glassy orbs of blue, forever gazing forward with such horror caught within their depths that Tyelperinquar could not help but feel it too. His genitals were red and raw, his cock erect even in death, and images of Annatar fucking the dead body appeared unwanted in Tyelperinquar's mind.

Last was _Berúthiel_ , youngest of the doomed spouse-victims, her body spotless save for her slit wrists and scars that looked like claw marks scored across her breast. Tyelperinquar could not look at her for long, his eyes drawn instead to the empty hooks that hung beside her, to the next plaque with a name already engraved into it. He knew what it would say, but he could not look away.

 _Tyelperinquar_ , it read, and it was perhaps the undeniable truth that _he was next, o Valar, Annatar had left this here for him to discover, o endless Void, he was next—_

—perhaps that was what made him scramble to pick up the blood-soaked keys and turn to run away, to wake his family and to flee—

—but something glinted in the flickering lamplight and Tyelperinquar froze, staring at the slip of gold upon Berúthiel's finger. He knew that ring: it was the wedding band Annatar insisted he wear day in and day out, and as he looked between the corpses he noticed that each wore such a ring (save Meássë, the first, whose skeletal hands were bare).

 _The rings_ , some numb part of his mind realized. _He is using the rings._ And though he knew not _how_ or _why_ , Tyelperinquar knew it was true. He pulled the ring off his finger and flung it away like it burned, then turned tail and fled.

He raced up the stairs, heedless of the dark corridors pressing in upon him, consumed by horror and fear so deep within him that he couldn't imagine surviving it. Annatar, Annatar—he yearned for the comfort of his husband, someone he could turn to, but this was all Annatar's doing. Seven spouses, dead! Seven spouses, brutally slain, hung like pig carcasses in the dungeons beneath the home Tyelperinquar had come to love! Seven spouses slain, and Tyelperinquar was next!

Where was Moringotto? he wondered desperately. The Dark Lord had been killed, utterly destroyed at the end of the last war, before Annatar could take his vengeance. Was this why he slaughtered innocents, because the guilty one was beyond his reach? Or, worse, was Moringotto yet living, Annatar's master in these gruesome arts?

It mattered not, he thought hysterically as he at last emerged upon the ground floor. He would wake his family, his uncles and their spouses and his grandmother, and they would flee this place—flee to the castle where his father and grandfather remained, and he would sob into Curufinwë's arms and beg forgiveness and tell him he had been right all along, and then together they would hunt down Annatar and bring him to justice for such misdeeds.

But before he could reach the guest wing, Tyelperinquar stumbled to a halt as a familiar, now-terrifying figure emerged from the shadows.

"Annatar," he whispered.

His husband smiled, his teeth glinting. The veiled malice in his eyes was at once chillingly familiar and wholly new, and Tyelperinquar realized in terror that there was no saving himself now.

"Tyelpë," Annatar murmured. "What ever is the matter, my love?"

Tyelperinquar could think of nothing to say. He trembled before his husband, his doom, open-mouthed and guilty.

"Dearest...what is that thou art holding?" Annatar was gentle as he lifted Tyelperinquar's hand, plucking the bloodstained keys from his grasp. "Oh." He tutted. "Tyelpë, didst thou go down into the dungeons?"

Mutely, he shook his head, but there was no way to deny the truth.

"Thou ought not to lie to me," Annatar hissed, leaning forward to nip Tyelperinquar's neck in a way that he had done often in their bed. "I am thy _husband_ , after all."

"Annatar..." he gasped, but Annatar's hand covered his mouth.

"Hush, now," Annatar cooed. "If thou wert so consumed with curiosity about the dungeons, thou shouldst have told me, love. Without my guidance, thou must have gotten the wrong impression. Let me take thee to my hidden chambers, and show thee the _real_ secrets."

Tyelperinquar's mind went blank with terror, and he felt powerless to resist as his husband bound his hands and led him back into the depths of the castle and away from anyone who could rescue him. He closed his eyes as they descended, choking back sobs.

"Hush," Annatar ordered, wiping tears from his cheek. "It was always going to be this way, Tyelpë. It is nothing personal." A hint of malice crept into his voice. "Nothing personal to _thee_ , I mean. I have long wished to ruin thy family."

He pushed past the curtain and into the secret room. In his hurry to escape, Tyelperinquar had left the door wide open, and the stench of blood had leaked into the hall.

"Isn't it beautiful, Tyelpë?" Annatar sighed. He lifted Tyelperinquar's chin. "Open your eyes, boy. Behold my power!"

Whimpering, Tyelperinquar squinted at the slaughter before him. He was closer now, only inches away from Amlach's groin, and for one sickening moment he feared Annatar would force him to perform fellatio upon the long-dead man.

But Annatar released him, shoving him to his knees. "Why so silent, Tyelpë?" he inquired. "I am sure thou hast many questions."

"Why?" he whispered, his stomach rolling as he felt blood seep through the fabric of his trousers. "Why do you do this? And—why lie to me?"

"Do not try to distance thyself from me," Annatar warned. "Address me as _thou_. I am thy husband! The same hands that cradled thee hath ended the lives of those before thee!"

"Why dost thou slay these folk?" Tyelperinquar sobbed. "Whatever did they do to thee?"

"I am a Necromancer," Annatar said arrogantly, his teeth glinting in the torchlight as he smiled. "I have extended my life beyond that of a mere mortal; I was young and fair in the war, and young and fair I remain! But more importantly, my dark magicks strengthen my master—Lord Melkor."

"Moringotto?!" Tyelperinquar cried. "Wert thou not a child? Did he not take thee by force to be his consort?"

"I went willingly to his bed, as did thou to mine," Annatar crowed. "And I was no child. The tale was twisted in its telling, and I let the foolish believe what they wilt, for it benefitted I and my master both. House Gaurhoth has ever been faithful to House Utumno, and Melkor hath promised me a kingdom of his own when he conquers this land."

"Moringotto is dead," Tyelperinquar protested weakly. "He and his lieutenants were slain in the war, a generation past—"

"And yet here am _I_." Annatar laughed, spreading his arms, and his visage changed before Tyelperinquar's eyes. His golden robes turned black, his shimmering blond hair deepened to blackest red, his sparkling blue eyes flashed crystal-white. "Thy people named me _Þauron_ , the abhorred traitor, but I am Tar-Mairon the excellent!"

"Þauron," Tyelperinquar wept. "Thy father—"

"I am Lord Mairon, not his son," Þauron proclaimed. "It was Melkor my master who first taught me the ways of black magick, and I swore to him that I would use this gift to further his power. He hides in the ruins of Utumno in the north, succored by his vassals—folk like Tevildo and Thuringwethil and Gothmog—whilst I dwell here in this diminished land. But thy grandfather grows old, and when King Fëanáro dies and his foolish son takes his place—"

"Do not speak of Maitimo in that way!" Tyelperinquar shouted, stumbling to his feet and pulling at his restraints. "He is my beloved uncle—"

"And he is as good as dead, as are you," Þauron laughed. "Come here, Tyelpë."

"I will _not_." Tyelperinquar found rage boiling within him, and it exploded from him in a fiery shout: "The man I married was fair and kind, not this shade of darkness thou hath revealed—"

"Oh, poor Tyelpë," Þauron tutted. "I _am_ Annatar, as much as I am Þauron, and Thû, and Zigûr, and Gorthaur, and every other dreadful name thy people hath given me."

Tyelperinquar wept hot tears, stumbling forward to beat his fists at Þauron's feet, but with a disdainful flick of his fingers Þauron froze him in place.

"I tire of thee, Tyelpë," he said, inspecting his nails. "Thou wert fun to toy with, but my use of thee hath ended. I had thought to wait until thy birthday to give thee this gift, but thou wert impatient. Now, come to me, love."

He crooked his fingers, beckoning Tyelperinquar forward, but Tyelperinquar refused to move. With all his might he resisted the spell, even as Þauron's fair visage turned foul in rage.

"Come to me," he hissed. "Why dost thou resist mine— _ahhh_." His fury melted away, replaced by a sly smile. "Thou cast aside thy ring. Clever, clever Tyelpë. Thou wert always the _quickest_ of my spouses."

Tyelperinquar flushed, insulted and flattered all at once, his emotions still not quite caught up with the reality of his husband's evils.

"'Tis easier to manipulate someone when they are bound to you," Þauron explained, casting his eyes about the ground. "The rings grant me control, and thou guessed this. I can feel it...where didst thou hide it, Tyelpë? Where is it?"

The ring! He had thrown it from him earlier—it was somewhere in this room, soaked in blood—he knew not where, but Þauron would find it and use it on him—

"How long?" he wept. "How long hath these poor folk been hidden in thy chamber?"

Þauron did not pause in his searching, crouching down and running his fingers through the thin layer of blood on the floor. "Years and years," he murmured. "Meássë took me under her wing after betraying our master, and I showed her my wrath... it was not until Melian that I learned how to use a ring to drive her mad. With Meássë's life force I was able to raise my master from death into a diminished yet living form, but I needed others to strengthen him, and with the curséd ring I could extend the process, drag it out. Ai, with Melian I took my time..."

Tyelperinquar retched, fighting back vomit rising in the back of his throat, but this line of thought seemed to distract Þauron. "Abhorred thou art!" he cried. "What didst thou do to torment Eilinel?"

Þauron laughed, glancing back to her stained and shrunken form. "She was an experiment," he confessed. "I ate her heart. It was not as...potent in power as I had hoped, but her _eyes_ I gave to my master."

"And Shelob?" Tyelperinquar prompted. Now Þauron was truly distracted, rising to admire his handiwork. Tyelperinquar barely listened as Þauron continued to monologue. He thought he caught a glimpse of gold in the muck of the floor—was that his ring...?

"With her I perfected the art of preserving the body." Þauron traced a finger across her unblemished cheek. "I was careful with Zimraphel, to keep her pristine in whole." He licked his lips. "Ah, and Amlach!"

Tyelperinquar moaned, slumping to the ground and at last wriggling free of the ropes that bound his hands. Þauron cast him a withering glance, but soon returned to admiring the naked form of his previous husband. "I enjoy the female form, but Amlach was a treat, though less generously endowed than my master. I kept him longer than perhaps I should have... he nearly exposed me. I had to resort to drastic measures to avoid suspicion."

While he spoke, Tyelperinquar reached out his arm, searching, searching for the fallen ring. If he got ahold of the golden band, could he use its power to restrain Þauron...? Even if not, he knew he could _not_ allow it to come into Þauron's hands.

"And Berúthiel." Þauron shook his head. "Youngest, fairest of them all. I had not planned on taking her as my own, but her father thrust her upon me in place of repaying his debts, and who am I to refuse such a gift?"

Tyelperinquar bit back a retort; he could not draw attention to himself. Ah! his fingers brushed something small, round... He grasped it in his hand—only to recoil, dropping it in disgust: it was not the ring, but a human tooth, perhaps from Eilinel's broken jaw. He reached forth again, knowing in his panicked heart that the ring was close by.

"Berúthiel served her purpose and fulfilled her father's debts," Þauron continued, "for with her life I was nearly strong enough to raise the spirit of my master into physical form once more. Nearly."

Þauron turned, doubtless to gloat on how Tyelperinquar's murder would complete whatever dark rituals would raise Moringotto back to terror, but his words froze on his tongue. Just as he moved, Tyelperinquar reached the ring, clutching it tight in his fist, and he stumbled to his feet.

"You shall not slay me," Tyelperinquar rasped. "Nay, Þauron, I will destroy you with the ring I hold in my palm!"

Þauron's mouth twisted into an ugly snarl, but it was too late for him. Tyelperinquar thrust his finger back into the ring and _screamed_ as it burned his knuckles white-hot and felt a shadowy presence in his mind. But he did not give in, and he had the advantage of surprise: though he grimaced as he did so, he summoned all his strength and courage and clenched tight his fist.

Þauron howled in pain, clutching his skull and cursing Tyelperinquar's name in unrecognizable tongues. Tyelperinquar felt faint and woozy, and knew he could not hold such a defense for long, but he had no other option—even now Þauron seemed to regain his composure, standing upright and taking a shaky step forward.

"I shall relish killing thee, Tyelpë," he growled. "Not only for the sake of thy family, but for thine also! The House of Fëanáro shall rue the day they laid waste to Melkor and Mairon, and your proud family shall kneel to us amid the bodies of their kin!"

"We shall never bow to the likes of thee," growled a voice Tyelperinquar had not heard in since his betrothal, and as he turned in disbelief to its owner a great spear soared through the air, pinning Þauron to the wall beneath the plaque engraved with Tyelperinquar's name.

"Father!" Tyelperinquar sobbed, stumbling to his feet and throwing himself into Curufinwë's arms.

For all he was taller than Curufinwë, his father held him like he was a babe, clutching him to his chest despite the blood in his raiment and the mess that was his hair. Tyelperinquar wept violently, and Curufinwë did not whisper "I told you so" but soft murmurs of condolences and love.

"F...Fëanáro?" rasped Þauron.

Curufinwë placed a kiss upon Tyelperinquar's brow. "I will deal with this fiend. Thou hast done enough, Tyelpë."

He released Tyelperinquar and strode forward, examining the specimen before him with hard black eyes. All of Annatar's false beauty and Mairon's dark majesty were stripped away from the shroud of Þauron that remained, a rotting, crumbling shell robbed of his power.

"Wrong Curufinwë," hissed Tyelperinquar's father. "I knew thou wert false and evil from the day thou first spun thy webs around my son, but never did I anticipate _this_. Thou hast defiled my son and impuned my father, and I shall stand for it no longer! As my father once said to thy master, I say to thee again: Get thee gone from this land, thou pawn of Moringotto!"

Quick as a flash he drew two knives, one crafted by Fëanáro and one by Tyelperinquar himself, and made to remove Þauron's head from his body—but suddenly a vile wind burst forth from the crumbling corpse pinned to the wall, and Þauron's harsh laughter filled the air.

"Thou shalt not slay me so easily, spawn of Fëanáro!" cried Þauron. "I fly to Utumno in the north, where many willing sacrifices to my master await—and tell thy wizened king that the war has just begun!"

Þauron fled in a storm of smoke and blood, and the bodies hanging from the wall shrieked and melted before Tyelperinquar and Curufinwë's eyes, washing them in a flood of death. The lamps on the walls blew out, leaving them in putrid darkness—and before he fled the castle of Gaurhoth at last, Tyelperinquar heard Annatar's voice whisper in his ear one last time:

"Think not that I have forgotten thee, my love," Þauron hissed, "for I shall come for thee in the war to come, and give thee what I promised, and thy love for thy lord shall _truly_ be tested."

And then he was gone. Curufinwë reached for Tyelperinquar's hand amid the darkness, and soon a small torch was lit. Curufinwë looked as filthy and shamed as Tyelperinquar himself felt, and his eyes were dark and fearful, but full of love for his son returned to him.

"Tyelpë," he whispered. "Let us see daylight once more, and I shall tell thee my tale."

Tyelperinquar nodded, unable to speak his thanks and love, and followed his father above ground.

* * *

Once there was a young lord, son of a proud prince, who wed a man his father could not trust, and in hurt his father turned away when he needed him most.

And once there was a proud prince whose brothers visited their nephew in a far-off land of wolves and wraiths, and a foul feeling warned him to follow their footsteps, for he could sense his son's danger.

And though the danger passed into the north and not away from this realm entirely, the father and son were humbled to each other, and a family was made whole once more in a time of dire need for light and love.

**Author's Note:**

> I was a little concerned that I didn't tie up every loose end, but this was long enough and I think there's enough subtext for you to make educated guesses - but if you want to know my opinion on how everything resolves in more detail than I provided in-text, feel free to ask!
> 
> The names of Sauron's various spouses are all from the legendarium, mostly people he wronged in some way, but not necessarily in an order or context that makes sense for Arda's long history - this is an AU, and the people and times are much different than they are in canon.
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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